The Mudblood
by snogging.snivellus
Summary: A/U In the olden times, the mudbloods knew their rightful place. Lily/Severus.
1. The Mudblood: Prolouge

_Damn. Here already. _He was jolted awake as the carriage came to halt at a well-worn iron gate. It was embroidered with a large dark sliver and green _P_, simple yet elegant in nature. The sight of it made him uneasy, as this entire place always did.

The thestrals leading the cart pawed at the ground in anticipation as the iron gate slowly creaked open. 'Alright then,' he told them softly. They reared forward, and sensing his dread adopted a nervous gait, making soft whinnying noises. To have to have traveled here by such a manner irritated him greatly. The journey had been long, dull and rather miserable in the rainy season that loomed constantly over them. Would not a portkey or floo have sufficed? He snorted to himself. Of course not. Discretion had to be used in the task he had been given, and such matters of transportation were carefully watched. And all this aside, what he was delivering made either impossible.

_Ah, yes. His delivery. _In the quietness he had almost forgotten he and the thestrals were not alone. Across from him sat a girl attired in simple and modest gray, white and black robes. It was a familiar dress, the only one allowed of her station. As the law demanded, her hair was no longer than shoulder length and she wore no make-up and no jewelry. She was a mudblood. She had been silent nearly the entire trip, as etiquette between someone of her standing and his own stated she should be. Despite her compliance, he could not help but feel as though there was something very forward in the girl's nature. Her red hair and green eyes stood out far too much and he found it unseemly for someone such as herself.

There would be talk. To have such a girl in ones company, labeled servant or otherwise would surely stir up gossip. And _more _gossip, he thought smugly, was the last thing the Prince lad needed. Although no one knew the exact story it was known among the wizarding community that the last heir of the Prince house was not of pure blood. The tale goes that his mother bettered with a muggle and bore a son. It was some mystery what happened there after. Some say the muggle and Prince daughter were murdered by her pureblood zealot family, others say it was some muggle accident and even farther down the gossip line it was said that the Prince woman killed the man and herself in pure shame. In any case, in a panic to preserve the Prince family, the boy was taken back into the house and given his mother's maiden name.

It could be assumed that he was received coldly by the wizarding world, but it was not altogether true. Fear of the old, pureblood family (and it's reputation in being deeply knowledgeable of the Dark Arts) at the very least gave him a certain amount of respect. And he had proven himself to be worthy of the Prince's during his school years. He excelled in all areas that were expected of the family name. He had come along way, for a half-blood. And yet, he thought frowning, the boy seemed to be tilting toward ruin in his recent affairs. Bringing this young woman to the castle, what did he mean by it? People would talk. They would say his muggle heritage drew him to lower beings; that he would bring shame to the Prince family as his mother did before him.

At least the boy had enough sense to bring the mudblood in under the pretense that she was to be a servant. That was common enough, wasn't it? While the muggles lived in fear and squalor beneath wizard rule, mudbloods were allowed to mingle on the very outskirts of wizard life. They were absolutely forbidden to use magic or be in possession of magical artifacts, but there was a desire among the purebloods to keep them close, perhaps to see to it their magic was properly suppressed. Despite the boys claim that she was to only be but a serving girl, he could not shake the memory of the transfixed expression Prince had as he gazed at the girl standing on a wooden platform, being bid off in the slave market. Nor could he ignore the feverish eagerness the young man's voice held when he had spoke of bringing the girl to the castle. As the castle came into view of the beast-drawn carriage came, he felt an over-whelming sense of trouble. What was his master getting himself into?


	2. The Mudblood: 1

She was being punished. She knew she was. There were stories; stories of mudbloods who offended their masters or disobeyed one of the strict and many laws in the Muggle and Mudblood Act and were sent to a special hell just for muggle-borns were they beaten, raped and made to work until they dropped dead. She had thought them only fairy tales to keep mudbloods in line, but she was beginning to change her mind. It was all because of a book. A stupid book. No, a wonderful, _magical_ book. It had called out to her, begging her to hold it, to open it and (she cringed at her own foolish thoughts) to _read it. _She had barely gotten past the first sentence when she was caught by the mistress of the household in which she served. The woman had let out a shriek loud enough for the entire house to hear. The next thing she knew the book was ripped from her by the pudgy, ugly hands of the master of the house as he shouted at her 'You are not to touch, _you are never to touch,_ our kinds things and corrupt them with your dirty, undeserving muggle blood! How dare you! _How dare you!' _

She was thrown into the small cleaning cupboard in the kitchen and she heard a muffled spell: one she knew that had locked her in. She had curled her knees to her chest and lay her head down on them. She had been here before. In fact, several times before, and almost always for the same offense. She couldn't help herself. The moment she had been introduced to the magical world (despite how cruel and ugly the introduction had been) she had been attracted to the artifacts within it. They made her breath quicken and her fingertips tingle with an energy she could not place. It was such an incredible, indescribable feeling that she could not resist even with the threat of being locked in a small, cramped space for a day with no food. At least she did not have to clean up after the Pig Wizard (a nickname she had, with blushing naughtiness, bestowed upon him) and his wife tonight.

But that day, and that book had been one time too many. Less than a week after the incident her master had sent her away. The next few days were an absolute blur. She remembered being forced into a large house with tiny rooms. Or at least they seemed tiny, as they were filled with masses of men, women and children who were of her own birth. She remembered a platform; on which she was judged perhaps? And then being pushed into a carriage with a man who looked perpetually displeased and uncomfortable. She hadn't the slightest idea as to who he was and knew better than to ask.

However, she had managed to get a good look at him. Mudbloods never seemed able to get a good look at any pureblood, as it was considered terribly offensive for them to look into the faces of someone so superior to them. But this man had fallen asleep and, as she was too anxious to sleep, she had the lucky chance to observe him. She thought herself a terrible example of a good mudblood; always taking the opportunity to disobey. _'That's why you're here,'_ she thought in an ugly tone to herself. And as she stole small glances out of the carriage window she felt her fears being confirmed.

Surely this dismal place was just what had always been described to her. The landscaping (if you could call it that) was dirt and mud that surrounded a gray-bricked building that, though very large, was quite an eyesore. The only nice thing about it was a decorative silver 'P' that adorned the large, wooden doubled doors of the manor. As they drew nearer she felt panic rise up in her stomach.

"May I ask where we are?" She said to the man who had accompanied her, in as quiet of a voice as she could manage.

His reaction was just as she had feared. _"You may not. You may sit quietly as you should and do and say only as you are told."_ She lowered her head and nodded, trying to swallow the urge to cry and beg to be told what her fate was. The carriage came to a stop, or at least the mysterious, invisible creatures that the man was so fond of talking to did. As soon as they halted the man jumped out, anxious, she imagined, to stretch his legs. He, taking long, quick steps, made his way to the wooden doors. They swung open as though quite expecting him, and then slammed shut.

Silence filled in around her and caused the panic to grow even more wild. He had left her out here alone with no fear that she would run. Who would be stupid enough to run from wizards? Any idea, even a stupid one, sounded good at this point. She had almost gotten enough courage to jump out of the carriage and run when the doors to the front of the castle swung open once more and the man reemerged from them. She gasped, feeling as though she had been caught in her thoughts. However, he was paying her no mind, as he was talking to an old woman who was following behind him. She had on the same plain gray suit she herself wore and she knew the woman was mudblood.

"Alright, she's in here. Take her, show her where she stays and review the house rules with her. And mind that you have her ready before supper. The master wants her to be the serving girl for tonight's meal." He made his way to the carriage and reached inside, grabbing her arm and pulling her roughly from the carriage. She tripped over her steps and he yanked her over to the woman.

"Of course, sir. I'll see to it all." Said the old woman, displaying no pity, her eyes on the ground. The man released her and pushed her toward the other woman with rather unnecessary force. She got the distinct feeling he did not like her. Not that a man such as himself would ever truly _like _a mudblood, but there was clearly something about her that put him off. Perhaps this was how everyone here acted toward mudbloods. The man nodded curtly and stormed back through the wooden doors, disappearing from sight. It was only then she mulled over his words. So, she was not in a prison camp for mudbloods, after all. She had merely been sold to another household.

"Excuse me ma'am, but where are we?"

The woman frowned at her, displeased with how familiar she acted. "We are at the noble house of Prince, a pureblood family that has been around since before you will understand. You were summoned here by the Heir of Prince and should be damn grateful to serve him. What is your name?"

She bit her lip. It was funny how mudbloods never seemed to ban together, but so often joined in on the loathing wizarding society had for them. "Lily, ma'am. What should I call you?"

'I am Nan. Lily is it? Well, not anymore. In this house mudbloods are not to have such extravagant names. Mudbloods are to have names with no more than one syllable. You are Jane and you are never to speak of 'Lily' again. Understand?"

She nodded, lowering her head in habit. She was used to being stripped of freedom and rights, but she still felt an awful sting. She never imagined her name could be taken from her.

"Now, come, follow me. It's only a few hours until supper and you're positively _filthy_." The old woman squawked at her, and she could not help but gulp at the thought of the cruel master that lie inside.


	3. The Mudblood: 2

_An apple, _Lily thought as she was presented with a meager meal of stale bread, a chunk of cheese on the verge of molding and a bruised apple. She picked up the fruit and turned it over in her hands, frowning at it. _An apple. How it all started. _She remembered it perfectly no matter how many times she had been ordered to forget. She was a little girl. How old exactly she didn't know. When she was taken away no one had bothered to ask her age and she had been too young to keep track.

Her father had given her a perfect, red, shining apple. She had never had such a delicacy and she recalled holding it in her hands as her father led her down the street, marveling at it, afraid to eat it, afraid of the feeling of it being gone. Her father noticed her hesitation and, with a suspicious look around the half-starving world of muggles, told her to hurry and eat it. As she brought it to her lips and took a bite she closed her eyes and wished. When she opened them she was standing in apples up to her waist. There were dozens and dozens of apples, surrounding her, each one as red and perfect as the one her father had given her. She had cried out in joy at the sight of it, so happy and filled with a thrilling, buzzing, swirling sensation that it took her a long moment to notice the crowd of people watching her and her father's horrified face.

He had grabbed her and pulled her out of the pile of apples, out of her bliss, sputtering to the crowd around them sorry explanations of where the apples came from, every one of them denying it had been magic. But it was no use. There was a heavy reward for reporting magical behavior in muggle children and three days later she was being pulled from her screaming mother's arms while her father, subdued by magic, watched in the corner. His face was stoney and she wondered whether it was the freezing hex put on him that made it so or if he had become so accustomed to suffering he no longer felt it. She often told herself that any day now she'd stop feeling it too.

"Don't sit there playing with it! _Ea_t it!" Lily jumped as Nan's squawking voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "And hurry, mind you. Dinner is in fifteen minutes. It is served at precisely seven and even a minute later is out of the question. The master likes his manor run in his way to the very detail and he's a bad tempered man. Whatever it is you've done and gotten away with before and what ever you've done to get you landed here, you'd best remember that. _The master is a bad tempered man._"

She dropped the apple back down on the scratched, old wooden plate that looked as though it had outlived its purpose and pushed it away. "I'm not hungry." It was a sorry lie and an obvious one as her stomach contradicted her with a grumble, but denying the unwanted food that those she served so generously inflicted on her was the only small rebellion she had. She often fancied she'd deny their retched food until she starved to death but she doubted it would be seen in the dramatic light she intended. It would much more likely be waved away with a shoulder shrug and a _'It was sick, it stopped eating, it died.' _Mudblood servants were as common a thing to find as can be, a knut a dozen, she imagined. It was funny how such hopelessness in how her death would be taken encouraged her to live instead of die.

"Not good enough for you, then?" Nan bit back in a half-laughing reply. "It doesn't get any better, so get used to it. If you don't want to eat, then down to the kitchen with you. They've all been waiting to see you."

"Has she arrived?" Severus asked stiffly, keeping his voice even and not bothering to turn around as he pulled his finest top cape over his shoulders and began to pull the silver clasps together that met at his throat. He undid them and redid them, scowling greatly. Was it still the fashion to leave the bottom most ones undone? He had never bothered to keep up with such social fads, as he found them frivolous and often times ridiculous. He had never cared much for looking after his physical appearance in general and found vanity an unattractive trait in others.

"Ms. Edith arrived in the town center today to visit her grandmother's good friend, your Great Aunt Erna, and she did inquire about your well being. All three buttons, Prince." The glare from his old friend at such a helpful reply almost made Knott regret it. Almost.

"You know perfectly well that's not whom I was referring to. I don't give a damn about Ms. Edith's shrill questioning, and you know it. Is she here? Did everything go smoothly? Did anyone see you?"

"Just the entire household. Won't be long before the rest of the wizarding world hears that the Prince boy has taken in a pretty new mudblood." Knott carefully studied the young Prince's face for a reaction, but it was carefully stoic as always. "You know how tho gossips love to talk of who can afford the most servants."

"Hrm, gossips." Was the only reply that came. Severus turned to face the long mirror once more, frowning as he surveyed himself.

"You shouldn't be so unkind about Ms. Edith. She's a good woman from a good family. Not too terribly quick but not dim either, just the way a woman ought to be. And you can't say she's unpleasant to look at. I believe she has it in for you, Severus." A Cheshire cat grin adorned Knott's face as he teased his old schoolmate. Severus remained silent and Knott had a distinct feeling he was ignoring his rantings on Ms. Edith. It was a familiar feeling.

"I invited her to dinner tonight."

Severus was a man of quiet, subtle movement and calculated thought. It was very rare to see him startled and it pleased Knott to see him spin around viciously with a flustered, half-choked look on his face.

"_You what!?" _


End file.
